Fire and Brimstone
by DecayingInRed
Summary: It was a dangerous dance they both played, although Ignis is no longer sure who will be burnt the worst. IgCrowe.


**A/N:** I originally posted this on AO3 a long while ago. Wrote this just before Kingsglaive came out, but I liked the story so I decided to upload here. Still like this little pairing. Hope you enjoy.

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She was fire and brimstone. Burning with such passion and zest underneath that cool exterior, a composed mask of utter professionalism that she wore for all. She was no different than him; made out of marble, seemingly unfazed by life's cruel jests, the cold callousness of human nature. Perhaps that was what drew him to her in the first place. A kindred spirit lost within a sea of swarming pompous parasites so engrossed in self-congratulation and keeping up appearances.

_Ironic._ Was he not like that to a certain extent? Careful in how he presented himself, every slight movement in accordance to what was expected of a retainer to the royal family. Yet she, even draped in that cloak of austerity, still retained that unbridled flame within. She knew her place, yes, yet spoke her mind freely - unafraid of the scrutiny of others. Perhaps it had been her lowborn upbringing or her own nature seeping through the veil, he could not say. Oh, how he envied her for it.

He had the stillness of a frozen lake, refined and composed, untouched by the imbecilic actions that gripped at those with lower standards and intellect. However, her presence… disrupted that tranquillity, allowing ripples to form and cracks to appear. Breaking through every single defence that he placed, barriers that have been delicately created over years of brutal training and upholding near impossible expectations from such a young age. But this woman, a wild flower that bloomed among the rushes, slipped through them all.

It confused him. It impressed him. It _infuriated_ him.

No.

It was _unprofessional_. They couldn't. They _shouldn't_.

There were obligations and rules and -

When soft lips pressed against his own, Ignis set aside those intrusive thoughts and allowed himself this act of selfishness once more. Long fingers entangling themselves in dark tresses; a desperate grip as if she would disappear in an instant had he not done so. An arm snaked its way around her waist, pulling her closer as she persuaded his lips to open with gentle nips.

_Fire and brimstone_. That's what she was. A force of nature as fearsome as she was divine. She neither hid nor denied herself - another trait he envied of her. Crowe represented everything he wasn't, and that in turn was what probably drew him to her in the first place.

A chance to break free from his bonds. Even it were for a short moment.

Crowe spared no time in her assault, eager to crack that frozen surface of his, a privilege he only ever granted to her, and her alone. This courtship - or whatever it was - had been going on for a number of months. A war that raged on between them. Secret battles in hidden corners and underneath shadows, away from unwanted spectators and anxious mouths. A deadly game of cat and mouse, although Ignis could no longer tell who was who. Did it matter? Should it matter? Questions that remain forever unanswered.

The glaive both infuriated and spurred him on. Intimacy was something he craved yet feared, allured yet repulsed, and she… she was that drop of ambrosia he shouldn't have taken. Ignis wasn't a religious man by any means - too cynical and logical to be trapped by such vague concepts that lacked evidence - but surely something that felt so glorious yet so wrong be sinful.

They shouldn't be doing this. Social standing and expectations dictated that they dare not engage in such a thing. Not once had he ever looked down on her or consider her below him. No, she had proven herself time and time again that she was an equal. Her loyalty to the crown, to her comrades, to her country… even to him, was without question. But their duties proved that such a match would be near impossible, no matter how similar in goals they were.

Gloved hands placed themselves on her shoulders, pushing her away with such gentleness as if she were made of glass. They were both breathless, chests heaving in unison as her held her there. Although he cannot clearly see her face underneath the mask of shadow he dared not look at her. Thin eyebrows furrow as he closed his eyes beneath the lenses.

"Forgive me, I..."

_You bloody fool._

Ignis failed to suppress a sigh from slipping out at his own incompetence. For all his knowledge, for all his courtesy, for every fibre of his very being, Crowe tore asunder. He never knew exactly what to do around her, and not knowing anything infuriated him beyond explanation. Exposing himself to her… bearing his soul for her to see… this vulnerability was not something he was accustomed to. Ignis was a man of practicality, reasoning and logic. Yet she managed to dispel all those things. It was a position he rarely found himself in let alone allowed.

Hazel eyes searched him for answers before dropping their gaze. He managed to glance up and watch as her lovely features twisted in vexation. A phantom dagger slipped through his ribs and twisted as she swiped his hands off of her, storming out to join the crowd in their festivities inside.

This dance of theirs would have to end soon, it seemed.

Another stab and twist, more painful and brutal than the last. It was an inevitability - he knew that. Didn't make facing the truth any easier though.

_What a pity._

Moving his glasses up ever so slightly to pinch the bridge of his nose in a vain attempt to compose himself; Ignis waited for a few moments to pass before following her in.

It seems the flames have made mark - that he was sure of.

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**A/N:** Thanks for reading. Any advice or critiques would be greatly appreciated.


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